Breast cancer is a plague that affects 1 in 8 women all around the world, regardless of race, age or health condition, but this month we get up close and personal with the loved ones of those affected. We start part 1 of 3 of our breast cancer awareness series with Aliza Azani, who supported her best friend and breast cancer survivor, Hiba Abdul Rahman.
“I’m terribly sorry for this, but I have to let you know that my mum is turning down the opportunity to have a chat with Malaysia Tatler about my breast cancer. I’m afraid she’s still traumatised by the whole experience."
Priya, a breast cancer survivor, told me that after I had approached her two weeks prior to receiving this text message. Our team had touched based with the National Cancer Society Malaysia, the Breast Cancer Welfare Association and Beacon International Specialist Centre, and their teams had kindly assisted us in reaching out to various survivors.
Unfortunately, while the survivors were kind enough to reciprocate the contact, their friends and families were not keen on telling us their story. Those who had been acting as caretakers of the sufferers got the brunt of it all, more often than not, so it would explain their reluctance to recall the trauma. “My mum still can’t get over it. She has trouble looking at my scars until today,” Priya explained further. Some parents forbid their children from talking about their breast cancer, preferring to treat it like it never happened. Understandable.
Fortunately, we had managed to get two people and a specialist to talk about their experiences being part of the whole ordeal, watching on and supporting as their loved ones ploughed through the plague that is breast cancer. This month, and for always, we strive to appreciate not only those who have survived or are fighting breast cancer, but those who have been with them every step of the way – as warrior themselves, not as an after-thought.
How did you feel when you first found out that Hiba had breast cancer?
“My first reaction was of disbelief. I couldn’t believe that she of all people would be diagnosed with breast cancer, and at such a young age. As far as I knew, she had always been quite a healthy young lady. She took care of herself and ate well – she also did not have any unhealthy vices. The first thing that I thought to ask her was if she’s gotten a second – or even a third – opinion. I just couldn’t believe it. While on the phone, I was the one who broke down and cried, and she was the one who said it was going to be alright.”
What was the process of accepting it like?
“I was in disbelief for quite some time, but I was determined to support her through as much as I can. And so, by watching her go through her treatments and dealing with the after-effects, I slowly accepted that it was real. It was happening. It was hard not to feel anger towards the circumstances, but seeing her smile and be her ever-jolly self through it all made it somewhat easier to just accept it as it was. She was always aware and up-to-speed on her condition, and she was proactive with her body. She wanted to see everything through. Her positive attitude was infectious, and I found myself shifting from questioning “Why?!” to thinking “What can I do to help?”, and it became easy to just fall into the supporting role. Of course, it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, so when she had her ‘down’ days I did what I could to be present with her – emotionally and physically.”
What was the most grueling moment or memory of this entire experience?
“I’m not very good with blood and seeing people in pain – the hardest bit for me was first seeing her chemo-port, and then seeing her wounds after surgery… I just couldn’t see my beautiful best friend in pain and soldiering through it all on her own. I wished I could take some of the pain away.”
Where did you channel your stress to?
“Physical activity. It has always been my outlet, and I didn’t see any reason to change that. It’s important to also care for ourselves when we’re taking on the caretaker role. We’re no good to others if we’re no good to ourselves. Emotionally, I would talk to the other friends we call Care Bears – one of us is a doctor, thus we get our medical information from her. It’s good to have this network of support – we ended up supporting each other, with Hiba at its core.”
"I found myself shifting from questioning “Why?!” to thinking “What can I do to help?”, and it became easy to just fall into the supporting role. Of course, it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, so when she had her ‘down’ days I did what I could to be present with her – emotionally and physically.”